stranger
by TheAliensDidIt
Summary: MakaSoul. - A collection of one-shots inspired by prompts.
1. Prompt 1: Doctor

_Because I'm in love with this pairing, darnit. _

_So I'm planning to make this a series of one-shot collections, featuring Maka and Soul. _

_Leave a prompt in a review and I'll write something about that. _

_Disclaimer? Last I checked, don't own._

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><p><strong>Prompt: Doctor. <strong>

_Twenty-nine. _

Maka clutched her number card angrily with one hand and drummed her fingers on the metal chair she was sitting on. Around her, dozens of other people were slouched in similar fashions in the waiting room. A white-haired boy was sitting on her left, playing with his iPod.

_Twenty-freaking-nine. _

The doctor had just opened his clinic fifteen minutes ago and here she was — the twenty-ninth patient in line.

She glared murderously at the front desk, then at the nurse who seemed to be half-asleep. A small rectangular monitor sitting on the desk proudly showed a digitalized number — thirteen.

Patient number thirteen was inside the doctor's room.

_We've got a long way to go, _she thought glumly.

She dug around her small schoolbag, hoping to find something to entertain her during the long wait. No luck, however, because now she remembered that Patti had drawn all over her newest book with a set of red crayons.

Sighing dejectedly, Maka slumped down on her seat and resigned herself to waiting.

Patience was never Maka's forte, however, and this was emphasized by the fact that she kept glancing over to the monitor every ten seconds.

Fidgeting.

Playing with hair.

More fidgeting.

Looking at the monitor.

Fidgeting.

Looking again.

Ten minutes later, the number had stubbornly remained at thirteen.

Growling dangerously in her throat, Maka leaned over and tapped the white-haired boy on the shoulder.

"How long has patient thirteen been in there?"

He shrugged noncommittally, raising striking red eyes to meet her green ones. "Eh. Dunno. Maybe half an hour."

Trying her best to ignore those startling eyes, Maka promptly bashed her head against her metal chair. Beside her, she could clearly feel the boy's amusement.

"Why is this doctor so popular anyway?" Maka asked.

"He's a medical genius, people say. Can handle anything from nose, throat, ears, teeth, surgery . . . I heard he specializes in dissection though."

". . .Oh."

"You came all the way here and you didn't know what he can do?"

"Nope. A friend of mine told me to go here, so I figured I should."

"What're you here for?"

Maka raised her head from the chair. "Teeth. Got cavities."

The boy nodded. "I'm getting my teeth checked too."

"What's wrong with yours?"

And that was when he grinned at her, showing off his shark-like, serrated teeth.

"What the hell!" Maka shrieked. "What did he do to your teeth?"

The boy looked offended. "He didn't _do _anything. They're genetics."

"Gene — whoa. Really?"

"Yep."

There was a comfortable silence, then the monitor chimed, and patient thirteen came out. The next patient quickly got up and went inside the doctor's room, the monitor's number changing to fourteen.

Maka snuck a peek at the boy's number. Fifteen.

"Good for you," she grumbled.

"What did you get?"

"Twenty-nine."

"You have such crappy luck."

"Shut up. It's not my luck's fault."

"You're right. It's not. I'm just way cooler than you," he grinned.

"If I had a book right now, you'd take that back!"

"So what if you got a book?"

"I'd kill your brain cells."

"Lie. You can't do something as cool as that."

"Oh, wait. You're right. I can't. You don't even _have _any brain cells to start with."

He mumbled something incoherent and sank into his chair.

"Win!" Maka chirped.

"Because I let you," he shot back.

"As if!"

"I did."

"You're just a sore loser."

"No cool guy is a sore loser. And I am a cool guy, so I'm not a sore loser."

"Your logic doesn't make sense. It just reinforces my theory that you're an idiot."

"And you're a flat as a board."

"Why you little — excuse me, Miss, can I borrow that? MAKA CHOP!"

"The hell!" The boy cried, as a book sailed into his head with a solid _thump._ "You said you didn't have a book!"

"I didn't. I borrowed it," Maka pointed out. "Here you go, miss. Thanks," she handed the book back to a bewildered-looking lady.

"You're such a violent —"

"What was that?"

". . .Nothing."

Silence fell once again.

"You're really weird, you know," he said.

She grabbed a vase that was conveniently standing close by and hefted it experimentally up and down.

"Wait, no! I meant — in a good way!" He blurted out quickly.

"How?"

"Most people run when they see my teeth," he said, touching them absentmindedly. "And my eyes."

"Well excuse me for trying to be nice," she huffed.

"That's cool. You're excused."

"Jerk."

The monitor chimed again, and patient fourteen came out.

"That's yours," Maka said, pointing to the door. They were still quite a few patients away from her turn, and even though she wouldn't admit it, the boy had been good company.

He stood up and made his way over to the monitor at the front desk, flipping it over so that the digital numbers read __51_ _instead of _15__. _

Walking casually back to his chair, he turned to Maka and said, "The dentist can wait, yeah?"

Despite herself, she beamed happily.

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><p><em>Review, pretty please. They make me happy. <em>

_- TheAliensDidIt_


	2. Prompt 2: Blair

_To __**wingedmercury **__because she's awesome. _

_Thanks to those who reviewed / alerted / favorited, and to whoever put this story on the SoMa community._

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><p><strong>Prompt: Blair. <strong>— because things tend to get awkward with Blair around.

The smell of something burning on the stove filled the small apartment.

Maka flopped off the sofa and grumbled halfheartedly.

"Soul, if you can't boil a pot of water, then get out of the kitchen," she called.

"It's not me," came the indignant reply.

_Eh? _Maka thought idly. _It's not me, and if it's not Soul, then it only leaves _—

"Soul-kuuuuun! Maka-chaaaaaan! I made fish for dinner!"

. . .Blair.

"Blair, we just had fish yesterday," Maka sighed and made her way to the kitchen.

"_Burnt _fish," Soul added, sitting on a kitchen chair.

"But Maka-chan, Bu-tan likes fish," the cat whined, studiously waving her hand and flipping something on the frying pan.

"We'd eat your fish if they were actually edible, Blair, but since they're always half burnt — _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" _

Soul, who had given up on Blair and was raiding the fridge, promptly banged his head against the fridge door.

"What the hell, Maka!"

Said girl pointed a shaky finger towards the frying pan, in which a pair of fish — _live fish _— were slowly flopping and frying to death in the boiling hot water.

"This is _inhumane_, Blair! You should at least kill them first!" Maka screeched.

"But Bu-tan likes her fish alive," the cat blinked innocently.

"Sometimes I wonder why I live with you two," Soul muttered and retreated to the safety of his room, where at least he could be away from sadistic talking cats and a violent bookworm.

From his room, buried in a pile of pillows, Soul heard the argument continue.

"Take them out NOW!"

"No, Maka-chan! Bu-tan wants fiiiiiiish!"

"DON'T FRY THEM ALIVE!"

"But they won't feel anything —"

"Yes they will!"

"How do you know, Maka-chan? Were you a fish?"

_Good one, Blair, _Soul thought dryly.

"No, but —!"

"Then Maka-chan doesn't know if fish can feel or not!" The cat mewled triumphantly.

There was a brief silence, and for a while Soul wondered if Maka had beheaded the cat and thrown the remains out their window —

"_MAKA-CHAAAAAN!" _The cat screamed. "Don't take Bu-tan's fish away!"

"I do not want to hear about you frying fish alive _ever. Again." _

Soul could just picture his meister's emerald eyes flashing dangerously and the violent music playing in the background.

"Dead fish are okay, Blair. No live ones. Please."

"O . . . okay, Maka-chan . . ."

"Good girl. There's cream milk in the fridge if you want."

"Yay!"

A few seconds later, Maka burst into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it shakily.

"What's with you? I mean, it's inhumane and all, but you didn't have to freak out —"

"Their eyes," she moaned. "Their _eyes . . ."_

Soul stared at her blankly.

"They were _frying to death _and staring right up at me with those big googly eyes and it was like — it was like —_"_

"Okay, don't kill yourself," he said bluntly. "What'd you do with them to make Blair scream like that?"

Maka held up a small plastic bag filled with water, in which two little fish swam.

"Maka . . . are you sure you wanna be a meister? You could be in the animal protection society or something."

"Their eyes . . . they were waiting to be rescued . . ."

Soul took a closer look at the pair of fish in the plastic bag.

"They're half-burnt."

"And still alive," Maka pointed out and set the plastic bag on Soul's desk, then proceeded to drown herself in his bed.

"Pretty cool."

The door opened and the cat padded in quietly.

"Maka-chan, can Bu-tan cook fish again tomorrow? Bu-tan will make sure they're dead . . ."

"Blair . . ." Maka looked on helplessly.

"Maka-chan took away Bu-tan's fish today!"

"What's with you and fish?" Soul said.

"Bu-tan likes fish," the cat mewled.

"Yes, you've made that clear. _Why _do you like them so much? Cats are supposed to like milk too, you know," Maka said.

"Bu-tan doesn't know why she likes fish so much. It's like a dog and a bone . . . Kid-kun and symmetry . . ." suddenly Blair paused and a sly, cattish smile lit up her face. "Or Soul-kun and Maka-chan . . ."

"_WHAT?" _

"Bu-tan was just saying. Bu-tan and fish is like Soul-kun and Maka-chan."

"That's . . . that's . . . I don't like Maka!" Soul sputtered.

"And I don't like him either!" Maka shrieked.

"Oh, but who said anything about _liking? _Bu-tan only meant it as a meister-weapon relationship." Blair purred.

_The mice have fallen for the trap, _Blair thought happily.

"Maka-chan, Soul-kun, you look like tomatoes," the cat commented innocently.

"Blair . . . you can . . . go cook your fish now," Maka muttered lamely, her face flaring up.

Mission accomplished, Blair bounced out.

Too late, Maka realized her mistake. With Blair gone, the situation was . . . beyond awkward.

"Uhh," Maka mumbled intelligently.

"Damn cat."

"Um. Yeah."

Maka willed her face to stop burning.

"Hey, Maka."

"Uh?"

"Where are your fish?"

"Wha —" Maka cast her panicked eyes around Soul's room, looking for the plastic bag which was _supposed _to be sitting on the table.

The table was empty.

"BLAIR!" She screeched.

"Better hurry, Maka, they won't last long in Blair's hands. Paws."

"Shut up," she said, face turning red again. She slammed the door shut and zoomed out in pursuit of a certain cat. Soul followed her to the kitchen, curious to see the outcome.

"Blair! What did you do with the fish?"

Said cat had the decency to look down guiltily at the floor. "Bu-tan . . . ate the fish . . ." Blair refused to meet Maka's eyes.

"Please tell me this time you killed them before frying."

"Well, Maka-chan . . . you see . . . Bu-tan didn't _fry _them . . ."

"Then what did you . . ." Maka trailed off. Soul could almost see the gears turning in her head, when suddenly —

"_YOU ATE THEM ALIVE!"_

"Maka-chan, you don't understand! Bu-tan couldn't resist the temptation . . . Bu-tan is sure Maka-chan can't resist Soul-kun either —"

A pot and plate were hurled towards the cat, courtesy of a weapon and a meister.

"Maka-chan and Soul-kun look like tomatoes again," the cat called gleefully as she escaped from an open window.

Needless to say, Maka had nightmares that night, muttering _"Their eyes . . ." _in her sleep.

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><p><em>Reviews please. It's not too much to ask for, is it? And leave a prompt while you're at it!<em>

_-TheAliensDidIt _


	3. Prompt 3: Gun

_To __**Techno Skittles.**_

_Thanks for reviewing, everyone!_

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><p><strong>Prompt: Guns.<strong>

_She's drowning._

_She's drowning in a sea of black. _

_Above her is the blue, blue sky. Above her is the fresh, fresh air. Above her is sweet, sweet freedom. The freedom that hovers so tantalizingly out of reach. _

Where's Soul? _She thinks. _Why isn't he pulling me out?

_She's drowning and her lungs are burning. _

Soul?

_She tries to kick herself upwards and reach for the sky, but the sea of black that surrounds her is relentless. It's thick and compressing and so, so heavy and she can't move and it's pressing down on her, squeezing her lungs, filling her nose and mouth, suffocating her —_

_Suddenly it's gone, and all she feels is nothingness. _

_She opens her eyes that she'd unconsciously slammed shut a few seconds ago. _

_She's in a library. An old, quiet library, its shelves piled high with thick books. She feels a thrill as she runs her fingers over the spines of the books, brushing away the dust. Outside the glass doors of the library, there is a lush garden with a fountain in the middle, water spouting from the mouths of two intertwined swans. _

_She likes it. _

_She doesn't know where she is, whose library it is, whose garden it is, but right now, she doesn't care. She pictures herself taking a book and sitting in the garden, reading and relaxing and throwing away all her worries. She feels herself getting drowsy; maybe she'll lie down on the soft grass and sleep the day away _—

Wait.

_Her eyes widen momentarily. _Why am I here? What am I doing here? What —

_She shakes away the last of her drowsiness just as the sea of blackness comes crashing down. _

_For a mere heartbeat, she looks at it, confused. _

_Then she runs. _

_The garden has expanded, green walls rising in thick clusters around her. Suddenly she realizes what's going on. The plants are forming a maze; trying to trap her inside it until the blackness comes and drowns her. _

No, _she thinks. _I'll be okay. I just have to keep running.

_And run she does, through the twists and turns of the maze. She has no idea where she's going, randomly taking left turns, right turns, straight ahead, left, left, right, straight. She hears the telltale slithering sounds of the blackness rushing in on her, getting closer. _

_She knows that sooner or later, she'll tire or trip or fall and the blackness will catch up to her, but she pushes the thought away. _

_A few minutes later, her legs are burning. _

_The blackness is creeping closer to her despite her best efforts. _

_And then it reaches out, a tendril of swirling darkness, and _almost _grazes her pigtails._

_She squeals, jerks away. Newfound fear gives her strength, but she knows she's running on her last resources now. _

_Skidding around a corner, she comes to a screeching halt._

_In front of her is a dead end. _

_She whimpers and looks behind her to the oncoming blackness. She tries keep running, maybe jump over the wall of plants, but her lungs are burning and all she can do is try not to fall down and gasp for air. _

_A split second before the blackness bears down on her, she swears she can hear it cackling madly in glee before it devours her._

* * *

><p>She blinks open her eyes and finds herself lying down on the ground. Around her, Death City is in ruins. <em>Shibusen <em>is in ruins, in flames. Panic-stricken screams fill the air. Dark shadows are flitting in the sky, some riding brooms _— witches_, she realizes _—_ others simply trails of smoke. Smoke that vaporizes anything it touches, that is.

She vaguely recognizes Kim and Jackie helping as many civilians as possible. A little to the left, Tsubaki dragging BlackStar along, who is insisting on fighting the enemy even against impossible odds.

For a second, she is motionless. For a second, she maintains her sanity.

Then she hears the voices.

_Come with us._

_You've been infected._

_The black blood has taken over. _

"No —"

_It's over._

"Leave me alone —"

_You've lost._

"_Get out of my head!"_

_Surrender. _

And just like that, her mind is completely swallowed. Her sanity is gone. Forest green eyes turn black. A deformed grin appears on her face.

"Oh yes. I surrender," she cackles madly, an unmoving pebble in a sea of running people.

"Maka? Come on, we have to get _—_"

She crushes her fist into the person's face. Looking down, she sees that it is Liz, lying in a crumbled heap. She feels no remorse, no guilt; nothing.

As one, the dark shadows flit down to the ground and land in front of her.

"What is your will, mistress?" They ask their voices devoid of any emotion.

"Mistress?" She cocks her head to the side.

A shadowed figure steps up and says, "You have been swallowed by the black blood, no? When it took over, it awakened us. Therefore you are our mistress. What is your will?"

"My will . . ." she muses. "Where is Lord Death?"

"Taken care of, my lady. We overpowered him through sheer numbers and drove away the students of Shibusen." The figure gestures at the many broken bodies strewn across the ground.

"Is that so?" She says, the beginnings of a demented smile forming on her face. "Then we lay waste to the city."

"Our pleasure, mistress!" The figures rise and swoop around, setting Death City ablaze and knocking down the unfortunate people that block their path.

Three of the witches, however, do not move. Eyes glittering, they kneel down in front of her. "We will stay by your side, mistress."

"Very well," she shrugs. "So tell me, what new power has the black blood given me?"

"Try it, mistress," one of them says smoothly.

She frowns, head ticking back and forth. At last she looks thoughtfully down on her gloved hand, eyes closed in concentration. Immediately, a black gun appears, gleaming, on her open palm.

"Interesting." She hefts the gun up, weighing it.

"Try it, mistress," a witch urges her.

She lifts the gun up, aims carefully, fires. A jet of black light shoots out of the gun and collides with the witch. She gives a strangled scream, disappears, and her soul is sucked into the gun.

The other two witches are silent now.

"Very interesting," she says. "I'm not a gun person, though."

She flings the gun away distastefully as a black-bladed scythe shimmers into existence, landing perfectly in her open palm.

"Oh yes. Much better." She twirls the scythe around experimentally and stabs the remaining two witches.

"Mistress . . . why . . ." one of them chokes out.

She grins, insane and delighted. "For a test run."

Shrieking, she charges into the fray, her scythe glinting dangerously with blood.

* * *

><p>He pushes against the crowd of panicked people, desperately calling for his partner.<p>

"Maka!" He shouts, but he is drowned out by the mass of people screaming and squeezing and running past each other.

"Maka! Where are you?"

_Think, _he tells himself. _Find her soul. Concentrate._

And then he senses her soul, calling out to him faintly. _But there's something wrong with it, _he thinks. _Something . . . not right_.

Pushing the thought away, he sprints in the direction of her soul.

Neatly lopping off the heads of three witches that came a bit too close to his blade, he finally runs into her.

"Maka!"

She raises her eyes to meet his.

And he staggers back in shock.

_Those aren't her eyes. _Gone are the green eyes he is so familiar with. Instead, they are black, soulless eyes.

Then she smiles.

_That's not her smile either. _It is a twisted version of her pure, cute one.

"Maka, what _—_"

An instant later, she darts across and slashes at him with her scythe. He barely has time to lift up his blade arm and block a swipe that would have taken his head off.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She tilts her head to the side. "Having fun."

"What _—_" he starts. "You . . . you did all this?"

"Me and my slaves," she giggles, gesturing at the witches flying around.

He freezes. "You're not Maka."

"Oh, but I am."

"You're not Maka. She would never do this."

She looks at him with those black, bottomless eyes. Then she opens her mouth, clutches her throat, and speaks in a strangled, raspy voice.

"_Too late, Soul Eater. She's gone. The black blood has taken over." _

"Black blood? That's a lie! I know you're in there somewhere, Maka," he says, his voice getting progressively louder. "Whatever you're doing, stop it! Fight it!"

She blinks, and for a moment her eyes revert to their original green.

"Soul?" She whispers.

Then the black tendrils cloud her eyes and they turn black again.

"_You can't pull her out of this one, Soul Eater."_

"Shut up, dammit! Maka! Answer me!"

His reply comes in the swing of her scythe.

"Maka!"

"_Shut up, boy. If you want the black blood out you'll have to kill her. This is a fight to the death."_

He has no choice.

Lunging forward, he slashes down at her with his blade. She nimbly jumps out of the way and responds with a counterattack of her own, thrusting her scythe to his face. Instinctively, he raises his blade to block it, realizing too late that it is a feint as her fist hits his stomach.

All the breath is knocked out of his body and he slashes wildly. He manages to scratch her on the cheek with a lucky shot. Hissing, she takes up the offensive again, nicking him on the shoulder.

He ducks under her next swipe and tries to cut at her feet _—_ because no way in hell is he going to actually kill her _—_ but she brings her knee up and smashes it against his face.

Flying backwards, she zips towards him and brings her scythe down. He raises his blade arm up just in time to block her. The two scythes _—_ one red, one black _—_ clash together and are locked in a stalemate.

"Maka," he says through clenched teeth, "listen to me. You don't want to do this."

She says nothing, straining her scythe against his.

"We made a promise!" He yells. "We promised we'd be partners! We promised we'd always pull each other out of the deep shit we always get into!"

She's struggling, he can tell. Struggling on the inside, trying to break free.

"I'll always be here for you, Maka," he breathes.

The black tendrils slowly disperse and he can see her beautiful, beautiful green eyes again.

"Soul?" She questions, lifting the scythe off him and stumbling back. "What happened?"

"You went a little crazy there," he pants, sitting up.

"Crazy? What _—_" she doubles over suddenly, drops her scythe, and clutches her head.

"Maka!"

The scythe morphs into wisps of blackness. They latch on to her, sapping into her skin, her eyes, her body. _"The black blood will not be denied!" _

"Let go of her already!"

"Soul . . ." she whimpers, her voice back to normal, "can't . . . fight it anymore . . ."

"Shut up! You'll be fine!" He's holding her, panic-stricken, and there's nothing he can do.

"Go away . . . don't . . . wanna . . . kill you . . ."

"Don't be stupid, you're gonna be fine!"

"No . . ." she gasps.

Already he can see the tendrils coming back, slowly coloring her eyes black again.

"Maka, stay with me!"

She's gasping with the effort to stay sane; her eyes are spinning around wildly _—_ until they stop at the black gun she had previously used, lying a few meters away.

He follows her eyes until he, too, sees the gun.

Even as he registers what she's about to do, she wrenches free from his hold and darts towards the gun.

"Maka, no! We'll figure something out _—_ there has to be another way!"

"Only way . . ." she wheezes.

"_DON'T DO IT!" _He screams.

She meets his eyes one last time, then raises the gun.

"I'm sorry, Soul."

She presses the trigger, eyes squeezed shut.

The witches and shadows flying around Death City suddenly stop, fall to the ground, and lie there unmoving.

_It's over, _he thinks numbly. _The witches are dead. _

He catches her lifeless body as she falls forward, the gun limp in her hand.

He knows he'll never forget the sound of the gunshot.

* * *

><p><em>An angst fic. Quite honestly, I don't know how I did there. Gahh. <em>

_Next up will be something for __**Jezzimare. **_

_I hope I won't take too long. :S_

_- TheAliensDidIt_


	4. Prompt 4: BlackStar

_To __**Jezzimare.**_

_**Techno Skittles**__: glad I could make you feel better. _

_**wingedmercury**__: COOKIE. I LOVE YOU._

_**the shades of green**__: okay then, yours will (hopefully) be ready after this one. _

_**songstar13**__, thank you very much. ^^_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: BlackStar. <strong>

"YO SOUL, HOW'S IT _—_"

"_The hell did you find me?"_

"The great BlackStar will surpass the gods! Finding you, my friend, is a menial task! No matter how hard you conceal yourself, the great BlackStar will find you! There is nothing I cannot —"

"BlackStar."

"HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT MY SPEECH, YOU INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE —"

"I'm surprised you know a word that has five syllables."

"_Die —"_

"BlackStar."

"DIE —"

"_Shut up."_

". . . Okay."

* * *

><p>. . . This led to Soul Eater being unceremoniously dumped into one of Death City's numerous cafés, courtesy of a certain blue-haired meister.<p>

"Soul, man, we need to have a talk."

"I don't wanna talk to you."

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"_Nobody _in their right minds will want to."

"NONSENSE! IT SHOULD BE AN HONOR TO MEET THE GREAT BLACKSTAR IN PERSON!"

"_Nobody."_

At this, BlackStar seemed to wilt. "Tsubaki talks to me . . ."

"Tsubaki is abnormal. Besides, she's your weapon. She _has _to talk to you."

"YOU LIE —"

"Alright, tell me what you're here for."

BlackStar attempted to pull himself together. "Why are you so grouchy today, man?"

"I'm not grouchy."

"Dude, you are. Even _I _can see that." He blinked. "And that's sayin' something."

"Fine, I am. Now go away."

"_Why _are you grouchy?"

"No reason."

"Even _I _don't get grouchy for no reason. Say, where's Maka?"

"Library. Practically ran off to do her homework."

Deep inside the recesses of BlackStar's slow mind, something seemed to click. "Ah. That's why."

"That's why what?"

"Why you're grouchy."

"As if!"

"You _liiiiiiike _Maka's company."

"Cool guys don't act grouchy just because of that —"

"You're the exception."

"Cool guys don't whine if their meister prefers books over them —"

"Again, you're the exception."

"Cool guys don't like nerds with flat chests —"

"Dude? Who said anything about liking?"

_Ah, dammit. _Soul grimaced.

"Wait, does this mean you actually like Ma —"

"OH LOOK THE CHOCOLATE SUNDAE IS HERE."

"WHERE? WHERE?"

. . . Saved by BlackStar's short attention span.

* * *

><p>"Liz and Patty taught me this new game."<p>

"Happy happy joy joy."

"It's called Truth or Dare."

Soul looked horrified. "THEY ACTUALLY TAUGHT YOU THAT?"

"Yeah. It's kinda fun."

"Somebody _shoot _me." Soul stabbed his banana split sulkily.

"Anyway, I'm gonna try it on you. Soul, truth or dare?"

Soul mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"I'll take that as a dare. Let's see . . ."

"What? No, I didn't mean —"

"_LICK MY SHOE."_

"_FUCK NO." _

"So truth it is!"

"Gah, fine."

"Soul . . ." BlackStar fixed him with an unnerving stare. "Any girl you like?"

Soul blanched. "How are you capable of asking that question?"

"Answer it."

"I'm not interested in any of the girls."

"No?" BlackStar paused thoughtfully, then his eyes widened. "You don't mean . . . you're _gay?"_

"WHAT? NO —"

"But you said you don't like any girls!"

"I didn't mean it that way, you idiot!"

"They you _are _gay?"

"I'M NOT!"

"Prove it."

"Prove it? How?"

"Tell me who you like."

"I'M NOT GAY —"

"I'm giving you two choices, man. Tell me who you like or I'll make sure everyone knows you're gay."

Soul growled.

* * *

><p>(. . . This scene has been omitted because of excessive violence and swearing.)<p>

* * *

><p>After being kicked out of the café, Soul held up a bloody BlackStar by his shirt collar.<p>

"I. Am. Not. Gay."

"Prove it," BlackStar managed weakly.

"You want some more?"

"Dude, just tell me who you like and I swear I'll stop hounding you."

Soul dropped his fist. "Fine."

"Ah-ha!" BlackStar wriggled out of Soul's grasp and punched the air. "So who is it?"

". . . A girl?"

"I know that much, man. Unless you're gay and it's a guy. Anyway, go on."

". . . Blonde . . ."

"SWEET SHINIGAMI YOU LIKE LIZ."

"You idiot, it's not Liz, it's Mak —"

"_Maka_, eh?"

Too late, Soul clamped his mouth shut.

BlackStar cackled manically. "I KNEW IT!"

". . . Am I that obvious?"

"Hey, if _I _notice it, I'm pretty sure Liz and the others do too."

"_Fuck."_

"On the bright side . . ." BlackStar raised a tape recorder from his short pocket.

"_GET BACK HERE YOU BASTARD."_

"_KYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

><p><em>Ahh, I love BlackStar.<em>

_- TheAliensDidIt_


	5. Prompt 5: Possibilities

_To __**the shades of green**__._

_I'm sorry this took so long, but summer break's here and I've gotten lazy. Thanks for reviewing, everyone._

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: Possibilities.<strong>

Every day brings a new possibility, as the saying goes.

Soul agrees.

Because every day, every mission they accept, every _kishin _they fight, there's always the possibility that something will go wrong.

There's a possibility that one of them could lose an arm or leg.

There's a possibility that one of them could be physically scarred forever.

There's a possibility that one of them wouldn't make it out alive.

Soul is more worried about his meister, however, because technically _she's _the one doing all the work. _She _swings him around in every fight, _she _finishes off the _kishin_, _she _gets hurt the most. And all he does is morph into a weapon that just sits there in the palm of her hand.

It's because of this reason that he always blames himself whenever he feels her blood trickling down her fingers, running down the metal shaft of his scythe.

It's because of the endless possibilities, the endless number of things that could go wrong, that he pushes himself to become a better weapon for her.

Every time she gets scratched, stabbed, or thrown back into a wall, he promises to be a sharper blade, to swing faster, to resonate better, to _protect _her better.

He's asked her about this, once.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, Maka."<em>

"_Hm?"_

"_Have you ever thought about what would happen if something went wrong?"_

"_If what went wrong?"_

"_We live in constant danger every day, Maka."_

"_Oh. Yeah, I guess we do."_

"_And what happens if one of us doesn't make it?"_

"_This isn't like you, Soul. Why are you so worried?"_

"_I'm not worried."_

"_Your soul wavelength says otherwise."_

"_. . . Alright, so I am. It's a reasonable worry, you know." _

"_It is . . . but Soul, none of us have died."_

"_Yet."_

"_Think positive, Soul."_

"_Positive. We're fighting a _kishin _a day and you could lose an eye tomorrow and you want me to think positive."_

"_But we've always made it, haven't we? We've got each other."_

* * *

><p><em>The stupid girl just doesn't seem to get it, <em>Soul muses fondly.

She doesn't seem to understand that every time they successfully collect a _kishin _soul, that mission could have turned out into a failure and they could both be dead.

Instead, she just turns around and smiles at him.

Thinking back, Soul realizes that every day, there's the possibility of seeing her smile at him like that.

There's the possibility of seeing her eyes look at him with such radiant happiness.

There's the possibility of just _being _with her.

And Soul decides that for now, he can live with that. He can focus on the positives.

For now.

* * *

><p><em>I like one-word prompts. <em>

_On a side note, I'll be going out of town for a week without my laptop, so I won't be able to update until then. Really sorry, __**TheElementalPerson**__. :(_

_-TheAliensDidIt_


	6. Prompt 6: Hair Dye

_To __**TheElementalPerson.**_

_I'm back, yeah!_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: Hair Dye.<strong>

"Hey, Tsubaki! Listen to this! The great me will tell you a joke that's so funny, you'll be groveling at my feet and proclaiming you're unworthy! KYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Um, of course, BlackStar . . ."

"Listen up, you underlings! If a blonde and a brunette fell off a building, who would hit the ground first?"

"I don't know . . .?"

"The brunette, 'cause the blonde would have to stop and ask for directions!"

"Ah . . . I see . . ." Tsubaki silently willed her meister to shut up, while laughing nervously and furtively looking over at the ash-blonde in their company.

Said ash-blonde had abandoned the ice cream in front of her and was clutching her book so hard her knuckles turned white. Beside her, a white-haired weapon lazily stole her dessert.

In the background, BlackStar continued guffawing madly.

Maka's eye twitched.

"And there's this other one — a blonde asked someone what time it was, and they told her it was 4:45. And she said — she said —" here BlackStar paused to gasp for air.

"BlackStar . . ." Tsubaki started.

"She said, 'You know, I've been asking that question all day and people gave me different answers!'"

A low growl was the only thing that prepared Tsubaki for what would come from the blonde BlackStar had so kindly been insulting.

In the blink of an eye, Maka leaped across the table to BlackStar and forcibly shoved her spoon down his mouth, while at the same time grabbing her ice cream from Soul and dumping it on top of BlackStar.

"_YOU EGOTISTICAL, SELF-CENTERED BAS _—"

Tsubaki hauled her meister away before Maka could inflict any permanent damage. Soul clamped his hand over Maka's mouth and proceeded to placate the customers staring at the foursome in the ice cream shop.

"I got this," Soul told Tsubaki, and dragged a struggling Maka to his motorcycle.

"_LET ME GO, SOUL, I NEED TO BEAT HIM TO A BLOODY PULP _—"

"Yes, you did beat him to a bloody pulp already. Now shut up and let's go home."

* * *

><p>Soul came home to their apartment that night to stare in openmouthed shock at his meister.<p>

"Who are you and what have you done to Maka?"

. . . His meister, who had decided that it was apparently a good idea to dye her hair black.

"I dyed my hair."

Soul spluttered indignantly. "Of course you did. _Why?"_

"Because I'm tired of hearing BlackStar's dumb blonde jokes, that's why. It's easy for _you," _she stared at him accusingly, as if he was somehow responsible for BlackStar's actions, "you're not a blonde."

"Don't you think you're taking this too far?"

"No." Huffing, she headed off to her room.

"We have school tomorrow?" Soul tried lamely.

"_Let him see."_

And that pretty much settled it.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, a black-haired Maka turned more heads than a blonde Maka.<p>

"People are whispering," Soul said.

"So? It's me they're whispering about, not you," Maka shot back as got ready for their next class with Stein.

Ten minutes later, the telltale sound of a rolling chair slid into the class, and a familiar professor tumbled unceremoniously down with a _thud. _

"Right, class, today we'll be dissecting a pink flamingo." Stein stopped talking for a second to look oddly at Maka's hair, decided it wasn't worth the effort asking, then continued. "Take special care for the legs, as flamingos have especially long, spindly legs which are extremely . . . interesting."

Both meister and weapon knew what Stein thought was "interesting."

* * *

><p>"Yo, Maka, what's —" BlackStar's mouth snapped shut promptly.<p>

"Hello, BlackStar." Maka said.

"What . . . what . . ." he gestured vaguely at her hair.

"I dyed it."

"Why?"

Maka looked at him in disbelief. "Figure it out."

She stomped away, Tsubaki trying her best not to laugh at her meister's bewildered face.

* * *

><p>"MAKA!"<p>

"What, Kid?"

"Your hair. It's _asymmetrical!"_

"What do you mean, asymmetrical? It's all black."

"Look here! And here!" Death the Kid pointed vigorously at Maka's hair. "You have three blonde strands! Let me fix it!"

Soul grabbed her hand and ran away before things got nasty with Kid.

* * *

><p>"MAKA-CHAAAAAAAAN!"<p>

"Ugh, what is it, papa?"

"Old pervert! Go away!" Soul yelled angrily.

Spirit took no notice of Soul and carried on speaking to Maka. "Maka-chan, what have you _done?"_

"Oh, this?" Maka looked at her black hair. "I dyed it."

"But — but — but Maka-chaaaaaan! Papa loves your blonde hair!"

"Well, that's too bad."

"Maka-chan — please — wash it away now!" Spirit wailed.

"I thought you were a supportive father," Maka said, gleefully enjoying the conversation. "I guess I was wrong."

"Supportive?" Soul snorted.

"Papa loves Maka-chan's blonde hair . . ."

Maka raised her eyebrow coldly at the man before her.

"But . . . but . . ." Spirit felt himself breaking out in cold sweat. "Papa likes this one too, yes . . ."

"That's good to hear," Maka chirped.

* * *

><p>Back at their apartment, Soul slammed the door shut a little harder than usual.<p>

"I swear, Maka, your hair's giving us more trouble than it's worth."

"BlackStar didn't tell another one of his dumb jokes."

"But still!"

"What's the big deal, Soul? It's _my _hair, _my _problem —"

"Well, maybe I kinda liked your hair the way it was!" Soul snapped.

_Oh crap._

"You do?" Maka tugged at her hair absently, as if viewing it from a different light.

"I never said that!"

"You did."

"Just — forget I said that."

"But Soul," she frowned, "you could've told me you liked it blonde. I would've left it like that."

Soul felt himself turning red, ever so slightly.

"Or you could, you know, dye it white. Like mine. 'Cause I'm cool that way, and it's so much better than yours," he said, trying to preserve what was left of his dignity.

Wrong move.

"Maka chop."

"_WHERE DO YOU KEEP THOSE BOOKS?"_

"Oh, here and there."

The conversation quickly turned from Maka's hair to Soul arguing that he was physically abused by a girl on a daily basis.

* * *

><p>Maka fingered her hair again that night in front of the mirror, wondering if she should wash the dye away after all.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Not so much romance here, I'm afraid.<em>

_-TheAliensDidIt_


End file.
